


Out of the Pit

by tarie



Category: Indiana Jones Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:04:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarie/pseuds/tarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marion and Indy find themselves bound facing one another in the snake pit.  Bickering ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out of the Pit

**Author's Note:**

> A teensy bit AU as they weren’t actually bound together in the snake pit together (the Nazis just tossed her in) but that’s okay!

“This is all your fault, Jones!” Marion ground out through gritted teeth, twisting this way and that in an attempt to loosen their bindings. 

“My fault?” Indy sputtered, inadvertently stepping on her bare foot as he scooted them away from one of the plethora of snakes winding around them. “How is this _my_ fault, Marion?”

“It’s _your_ fault because--”

“Hey, watch the hands!”

“Shut. Up!” Marion hissed, shoving a hand in a front pocket of his trousers, fumbling a bit. It was difficult enough to feel in someone else’s trousers while they were wearing them as it was, let alone doubly so when you were bound to them. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, doing that little scoot-skip with them again. “This isn’t a time for– _Hey_! That was my--”

“Sorry,” she cut him off, not sounding sorry at all, crouching down at the knees so she could dig her hand in further. “A-ha!” Sounding triumphant, she straightened and, with a bit of a struggle, pulled her hand out of Indy’s pocket. Holding a pocketknife.

It took a bit of manoeuvring on Marion’s part (and Indy’s as well, since he had to keep shifting them out of harm’s way from the snakes) but she managed to cut them out of their bindings.

“C’mon, Marion,” Indy urged her impatiently, already cracking his whip and securing it around some old stone structure to provide a means of escape.

“Wait,” she protested as he wrapped his hand around her waist.

“What for?” he asked, exhasperated. “There are SNAKES, Marion! Big ones! We gotta go!”

“Have to return your knife.” She smirked, reaching a hand back in his pocket. Fingers uncurled from around the knife and edged to the other side of the pocket, pushing it toward his groin. He was hard; she could feel it.

The smirk broadened and looped her arms around his neck, ready for him to do his thing. “Jones,” she said slowly, ”when we get outta here, you’re gonna make it up to me for not letting me out of that Nazi tent when you had the chance. And I can already tell you’re pretty damned eager to do it.”


End file.
